Guilt by Association

The sirens the other day did not end up with a phone call to our house.  The one chick still out, checked in and assured the mother hen she was not being life watched anywhere.
I was then told that perhaps I should worry less.  That my imagination seemed to run away with me and was going to end up giving me ulcers, etc.
Did I mention the guilt I was going to apply?
Growing up, guilt was implied from the get go.  Mother was,  hmmm, different some days.  That really doesn't sound nice and I do not wish to be mean or nasty.  Always knew I was loved.  Always.  It is just some days were not easy for mom.  The wear and tear just overwhelmed her.  Hell, just grandmother could do that.  She was one mean and crazy woman. 
Anyway, on those days when life was difficult, problems that seemed almost insurmountable to mother were passed on to those around her.  Their fault and they needed to find the solution.  Pronto.
At the time, I thought it was not a great life to have to deal with a mom who was, as we call now, bipolar.  That no one else understood.  That my life was woefull and bleak. 
Those teenage years can be a bitch!
Looking back, I now realize what I had taught me what I need to know today.  My family knew to watch mom.  To look for the signs a manic phase might be approaching which would also foretell the dark hole to follow.  Sometimes, we could help make the darkness not so bad.  Sometimes it meant we learned to ride the hardness out. 
Mom, in her way, taught me how to live today. While I do tend to obsess about what could happen from any side, I can help prepare for what is coming.  Making some hard decisions and situations at least a little better. 
I told the chick accusing me of worrying to much she should consider herself lucky to have an obsessive mom.  She will thank me when she is 50.